Of Spiders and Mother Hens
by Dannerisms
Summary: Mark is in Ireland visiting Jack for a few days. Whilst showering, Mark spots a rather large and daunting spider crawling down the wall towards his foot. He screams, he falls and he sprains his knee in the process. Thus meaning he must stay in Ireland for longer than planned, trapped under the care of mother hen Jack. (Sort-of Septiplier. Nothing graphic, kinda cutesy) M for Jack
1. Chapter 1

Mark could see it crawling towards him, all spindly legs and eyes. It didn't care about the water raining upon both of them. It didn't care about the apparent lack of clothing or coverage. Mark had barely turned around fast enough to see it; and the second the furry appendage scraped against his foot, he shrieked and ran. Or rather, he tried to.

* * *

Jack's morning was not as peaceful as he had hoped. Dreams of a mug of strong black coffee and a lazy hour in a pair of slippers were dashed by the piercing cry echoing down the hall, followed swiftly by a heavy crash and a whining groan. As many would assume, this was a sure fire way to get Jack to bolt out of bed, almost getting caught in his quilts in the process. From what he could gather, the carcophany of noise came from his bathroom, meaning that that was exactly where he was heading.

The door to the bathroom was plain and unsuspecting, closed over to an extent, but not enough to lock. Small pufts of steam escaped the gap, as well as the sounds of running water and grumbling noises. Jack took a small breath and placed his palm against the handle.

"Mark?" The grumbling ceased immediately.

"Jack." came the reply. Formal, almost devoid of emotion. Excluding the underlying layer of pain, that is.

"You alright in there?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Not really.."

Again. Silence.

"Can I come in?"

There was more mumbling noises before a soft sigh and a drawn out "Fine"

Jack wasn't sure what to expect when he opened the door. One hand squeezed the handle nervously, whilst the other prepared to shield his vision, should it be necessary. What he saw was not quite what he had thought. In fact, it was so far away from his thoughts, it was in the garden, having broken a window on the way out. He had assumed maybe a bruised elbow, or bumped head from stumbling about Jack's bathroom. What he saw was in fact a rather naked Mark Fischbach, half splayed on his back beside the bathtub with only a hand to cover his pride. His teeth were slightly gritted and his breathing was heavy, as though catching in his chest. It didn't take long for Jack to spot the source of the pain. Marks right leg was twisted awkwardly, his foot still hooked on the edge of his bath and his knee too far inwards.

"Uh.." no words could escape Jacks lips.

"I know, I know. It's hilarious. Get your laughing over with, cause I do actually need your help." Mark almost went to cross his arms, but luckily recalled him position before actually moving enough to reveal anything. Instead he settled for a slight scowl, weakened by the faint blush lining his cheeks and the fact he couldn't quite look Jack in the eyes.

"I'm not going t' laugh, I swear." Jack pulled his shocked expression into a trademark grin "Now, I'm going t' help you out of this, and you're going t' tell me what happened that's left you leaving a puddle on my floor."

Without waiting for Marks response, Jack moved over to the man, looping his arms under his armpits and carefully attempting to manouver him into a sitting position. Marks spare hand worked on gently unhooking his foot from the death trap beside him and resting it beside his other leg. Jack tried desperately to block out the small hisses and yelps Mark made during the whole slow and tedious process. He also tried to block out the feeling of Marks wet back muscles pressed against his chest, and the fact that Marks derriere was slowly curling into view. Oh, Jack was so glad that no-one could see his face right now. He was certain that he had a blush to rival a radish.

Thankfully, the unnervingly close bodily contact was over quite quickly, leaving Jack with a red face and damp clothes. Unfortunately, there was still the somewhat pressing issue of Mark possibly being in need of medical attention. Also, he was still naked. A fact that Jack could not push from his mind. It was all he could do not to stare.

"Thanks.."

Mark's breathless words knocked Jack from his daze, allowing him to focus long enough to pass Mark a couple of towels. One large one to prevent the man from freezing on the floor, and a hand towel to help cover his manhood. However, there was an issue. How would they get Mark out of the bathroom?

The tiles certainly weren't the comfiest, and Jack was sure that the shower water splattered across the floor didn't make things any better. Come to think of it, Jack hadn't even turned the shower head off yet. Reaching for the shower dial meant even more awkward contact with Mark's body, but Jack did his best to ignore it. Luckily, it seemed Mark had the same idea. Either that, or he just didn't care.

"Right then. We've got t' move you out of here." Jack glanced around briefly, "Where are your clothes?"

Mark held a small smirk as he replied.

"Still in the spare room. Didn't think you'd be up for another couple of hours. Plenty of time to shower and get back there." He tried to chuckle at the end, but it came out more forced than intended.

"Well, we can't have you wandering 'round in just a towel. You can either come with me t' get your clothes, or I can bring 'em back here to you." As much as his knee was paining him, the icy feel of cold tile was no longer appealing to him, leaving him only one choice.

* * *

"Just a little bit longer now. You feeling okay?"

Mark just nodded his head slightly. Jack had helped him dry off before they left the bathroom, meaning the only dampness covering him (and subsequently, Jack) was his own sweat. Which was a horrible thought to be honest. After the dreaded task of helping Mark stand up, the two had decided on a better plan. Jack would help Mark to the living room, get him rested on a more comfortable seat with his leg raised, and then Jack would go to the spare room and get the clothes Mark had (thankfully) laid out in advance.

However, this did mean several minutes of mild pain and discomfort, as Jack was in no way able to completely carry Mark's muscular frame. This meant that Mark had to lean against Jack. Naked. He had to wrap his arm around Jack's shoulder. Naked. He had to hobble along and cling to Jack so he didn't fall over. _Naked._

For some reason, Jack couldn't quite remove that thought from his mind. Of course, both of them had realised their situation. Mark needed to 'walk' to the living room, and the towels wouldn't be able to stay on during their travels. Marks free hand would be too busy grasping the walls for support, and Jack certainly wasn't going to hold the towel up for him - that would be even worse than staring. So they came to the decision that Mark was to dry off (with the assistance of Jack, of course), and then the two of them would manouver their way through the halls. Jack was not going to _look_ and his hands weren't going to be anywhere near _it_. They would just keep looking straight ahead.

The doorway to the living room could not come soon enough.

"Y'know, you could've leaned on me a little more. Would've made it hurt less."

"Yeah, but you weigh like, 80 pounds. All my manly muscle would crush you."

Mark smiled. A real smile this time, pulled tight with the pain he was hiding. Jack simply raised a brow and left to get Marks clothes. For the first time in about an hour - or what felt like days - Mark had a chance to think. The first thing he thought was that he was a fool. A damn idiot who freaked out over a fucking spider and probably broke his damn knee, given the burning ache radiating from the joint. He slowly started bouncing his head against the back of the cushioned chair he was sat in - softly mouthing all the profanities he knew - before realising the back of his head was hurting. Actually, a little more than hurting. Kind of throbbing, really.

Secondly, he thought about his current dress state. Or rather, his _lack_ of dress state. He was sat naked in Jacks chair. _Naked_ in _Jacks_ chair. That was a phrase he never quite expected to say. Though, it was a very comfortable chair. With very comfortable cushions (even if one of them was currently being used to cover a certain area). The material was very soft, and the structure was very kind on his sore back. Mark could just about fall asleep here..

And that's just what he did, with his third thought in mind. Jack.

Jack was too good to him. He'd only meant to stay in Ireland for a few days visiting, planning to stay in a nearby hotel, but Jack wouldn't have it. He had a spare room, and plenty of supplies so Mark was more than welcome to stay. And by that, he meant that Mark was staying - no buts. It had been a great two days, like an extended sleepover, and Mark was gonna be sad to see it end. Technically, today was supposed to be his last day in Ireland. Though he supposed he would have to extend it by a few days if he couldn't even walk by himself..

Even now, Jack was too kind to him. Seriously. Mark had turned up practically unannounced, and Jack had taken him in. Jack had cooked him food. Jack had cleaned up his messes. All Mark had been able to do was pay for lunches out. Well, that and make Jack smile. But that wasn't exactly a hard feat, and Mark was certain Jacks happiness benefited the both of them equally, so it didn't count. Still, the thought of Jack made him happy, and that was enough to help him drift off.

* * *

"Holy fuck, that's huge!"

Mark jerked out of his brief nap, eyes wide and hands grasping against the cushion to check that a certain _something_ wasn't free. Blinking rapidly, he looked over to Jack in the doorway. And Jack was looking at his knee. A knee that appeared to have swollen to an unsettling degree and had gone mildly numb. That couldn't be good. An ever so slight blush crossed his face as his brain chastised him for thinking that Jacks comment had been about his...

"Hold on a second"

Jack dumped the clothes on the arm of the chair and bolted out of the room before Mark had a chance to say anything. He could hear nothing for a moment, then a soft sound drifted through. Jack was speaking to somebody, fast paced and far enough that Mark couldn't hear him. A couple of minutes later, Mark heard fast paced footsteps coming towards him. Jack appeared at the doorway, saying nothing, just pressing a hand against Mark's forehead, and then his cheek, causing him to redden even more. He kept his hand there for a moment, staring into Mark's confused eyes with a determined look on his face. As fast as he came, he was gone, back down the hall and talking with his mysterious contact.

Mark hadn't really realised he had zoned out until Jack came back into the room and placed an icy bag across his knee. Unable to stop the yelp that escaped his lips, Mark covered his mouth in embarrassment. Jack looked up at him with a small flit of a smile.

"Need to put something cold on it. Thats what the guys said. ' _Keep something cold on it to help the swelling and pain, and we'll be there as soon as we can._ '"

Mark just stared at him blankly. Damn, his mind was getting muddled.

"You've got a bit of a fever going on. They said it could be a bit o' mild shock from the fall, but they're going t' be checking your head for any damage an' all"

Ah. Fever. That explains it. Sort of.. Oh wait! Marks head was hurting!

"Wait. I think I hit my head a little." Jack glanced at him, concern evident on his face.

"Where d'you hit it?"

"Here." Mark lifted his arm and pointed to the source of his headache. Thankfully the pain there had died down a little, but poking it still made him wince. Without a word, Jack leant over and pressed a gentle kiss where Mark was pointing. Mark opened his mouth, but the look Jack gave him was one that definitely read 'Don't say a thing.'

"We've got t' get you dressed. Unless you'd rather go like you are." They shared a quick smile before Mark began to shuffle a little, leaning forward to make it easier to get the flannel shirt on. He hissed a little as his knee shifted, and didn't even care that Jack was doing most of the work. His pride would get him nowhere right now.

"Right.. Sorry about this, but we've got t' get your boxers on."

It was a tedious and quite embarrassing process, involving Mark hovering slightly above the seat by pushing his hands against the arms of the chair whilst Jack carefully shimmied the material up Marks thighs and around his posterior, making sure to keep his head turned so as not to catch sight. It was a safe bet to say that both men were dangerously red by the time the paramedics arrived.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Mark or Jack, and none of this actually happened.**_

 _ **A/N: This took forever and a half, so hopefully you like it :)**_

"I can't believe you fuckin' fell asleep in t' car"

There was no malice in his tone, and a gentle smile on his face as he led Mark back into the house. Mark's only response was a soft laugh, evolving into a yawn half way through.

"Sit your arse down and don't move."

Mark grumbled slightly as he felt Jacks hand ruffle his hair on the way through to the kitchen. As carefully as possible, he flopped down into Jacks very comfortable chair, making sure not to shift his now splintered, apparently sprained, knee too much. He let out a gentle sigh, puffing air up at his drooping fringe hair. As if he didn't feel useless enough already.

* * *

As horrible as it sounds, Jack was glad that Mark had sprained his knee. Not because of how painful it is, or how humourous it is, but because Jack enjoyed caring for people. Particularly Mark. It had been years since he had cooked for someone, played host. In fact, the last time he could recall preparing a full blown meal for someone was before he had moved out of his parents' house. Meaning having Mark over was the perfect opportunity to demonstrate his culinary skill. Good thing Mark was willing to eat pretty much anything. Jack let out a quiet laugh to himself and pulled a recipe card out of the box in front of him. Perfect.

* * *

Mark was so comfortable. A dippy smile was plastered on his face as he gazed off into nothing. He blinked slowly, head sliding against the back of the chair in tune to the music in his mind. His toes were twitching slightly as well. As much as he wanted to feel guilty and embarrassed, he simply couldn't. Every clear and deep thought had left his mind in favour of clouds. His head was so light, and his throat felt a bit dry. It didn't bother him though. Everything looked so beautiful, even if it sounded like he was underwater. ' _Whatever I'm on is the best..'_

After a few more minutes of blissful nothingness, Jack entered the living room carrying a bowl of something steaming. Granted, it took Mark a little while to actually notice that someone had come in, and even then all he could manage to do was swivel his head towards him and give him a small smile. Jack lifted a hand to his mouth to cover up the laugh that escaped him.

"Wow, you really are out'ta it, aren't ya?" While Mark struggled to respond, Jack placed the hot bowl onto the coffee table, careful to avoid Mark's leg.

"I feel.. great." Mark gave him a lazy thumbs up as if to further his point, but Jack was more focussed on the lightly flushed cheeks. Pulling a thermometer from his hoodie pocket, he stuck the device into Mark's mouth before he had a chance to protest. Not that he was protesting much anyway. There was a moment of silence whilst they waited to hear it beep, Mark keeping his mouth closed tight like an obedient child under a stern mother's glare. As if on instinct, Jack drew the thermometer from Mark's mouth the second it began to beep.

"Still a little too high, I'd reckon." Jack said, pulling out a small bottle of pills. "You got yer painkillers, and yer fever meds. No arguments, you're takin' both an' then you're gonna eat something."

Mark held out a shaky hand without a word. He knew by now it was better **not** to argue with an Irishman. Particularly **this** Irishman. Both sets of pills were quickly put into his mouth, and the glass of water was in his hand without having to ask.

"You need anythin' else before you start eatin'? Yer probably cold - what, with our weather an' all - but cause of that fever, all I can give you is like, a sheet or somethin'." Jack began rubbing the back of his necks, avoided eye contact with Mark. _Why was he so fuckin' nervous?!_

"No.. I think I'm good. Whatever you made smells real good though." Mark gave an exaggerated sniff and a sigh, rubbing his hands together and chuckling quietly to himself. Jack felt his cheeks heat up slightly at the comment, and he was sure his eyes widened a mite. He coughed into his hand, aware that he had left an awkward silence.

"It's just noodle soup, ya silly. Nothin' special."

"Yeah, but i'll bet you made it yourself. You always liked making things from scratch. Not sure how you could've done this though. You were only gone for like, ten minutes or something.." Jack was thankful that Mark wasn't quite 'there' enough to focus too hard on things. However, that didn't mean he didn't find his last humourous.

"Mark, I was out of the room for an hour at least. You really are off in the clouds."

Mark just whispered a soft and drawn out "Wow.." to himself, whilst leaning forward and becoming mesmerised by the noodle bowl. He reached out to pick it up, but jumped back when Jack's hands came into view, picking the bowl up for him and placing a fluffed cushion on his lap. Mark gazed at him with a puzzled expression, to which Jack merely shrugged and smirked.

"Can't have you scaldin' yerself, an' don't think I didn't notice yer hands shakin'." Mark face held a slightly guilty look, like a puppy caught shredding shoe laces, and he raised his hands slightly in surrender. Jack gave a small nod of affirmation and picked up the spoon.

"Alrighty then. Open wide!"

* * *

Even though he had a fevered heat in his face and the warmth of soup in his stomach, it took Mark a surprisingly long time to fall asleep. Jack knew this because he had just spent the last hour and a half talking with him until he drifted off mid-sentence. As much as he tried not to show it, Jack was exhausted. The panic of that morning had finally caught up to him now that he studied the sleeping figure on the pull-out-sofa opposite him. He wasn't even sure if he had eaten yet today. Ah well, too late for that now. He would have to get up early the next morning to record; he only really had enough to cover today.

With one last glance towards Mark, a quick feel of his temperature and a check on his breathing, Jack headed off towards his bedroom, dragging his feet as he went. His sheets felt marvellously soft and warm as he practically threw himself onto the bed, his eyes shutting before he even hit the pillow.

* * *

When Jack awoke, he felt very tired. Not just very tired, but exhausted. Moving out of bed was both physically **and** mentally taxing for him. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, a few yawns escaping him, as he stumbled over to the windows to open his curtains. It was then that he noticed something odd. There was no sunlight.

Suddenly much more awake, he ripped the curtains aside, only to discover the moon smirking at him. Another clumsy walk and a check of his phone revealed it to be a little past 3 am. Definitely not the sort of morning Jack wanted to be awake in. About six hours from that, actually. Another thought struck him. If it wasn't morning, then why had he woken up?

His answer came to him seconds after the thought, in the form of low pitched whine that carried all the way to his bedroom. Jack cautiously made his way to the living room – the source of the sound – his emotions a turbulent mixture of fear and concern.

Upon reaching the room, he discovered his friend emitting a strained moan, face pressed into the arm of the chair. As panicked as Jack felt, he knew that he had to move slowly and calmly, else he could end up freaking Mark out even more. His footsteps were gentle, and so was the hand he rested on Marks shoulder. The whining stopped almost immediately.

"Mark?"

Slowly but surely, Marks face lifted from the edge of the chair arm, revealing puffy eyes and a red nose. He stared at Jack intently, but said nothing.

Jack opened his mouth, as if to speak again, when Mark suddenly broke down again. He pressed his face back against the chair and started whining again. This time, Jack didn't take the slow approach. Patting at Marks shoulders, he manoeuvred him from his slumped position so he was leaning against the chair back. Gently tapping his cheek, Jack gained his attention.

"Mark." His voice was clear and firm. Jack could tell his fever was still wreaking havoc on him, but he needed to know what was wrong. "Are you in pain? Where did you hurt?"

Mark sniffled for a moment, not meeting Jack's eye. With obvious force, he gave a watery smile.

"'m fine.."

"We both know that's bull, Mark. You hav'ta tell me what happened."

There was a moment of silence between the two that felt like hours, when suddenly Mark spoke up. Jack had never seen the man hold a more distressed expression.

"I'm afraid you won't love me anymore."

The cogs in Jacks brain suddenly stopped. Before he could say anything, Mark continued.

"I tried to stand up" he lazily lifted his hand, and pointed towards the dishevelled sheets of the sofa bed. "an' it was hard, but I did it!" there was a half-hearted set of celebratory jazz hands "but I started thinking.. If I've bust up my knee.." he started rubbing at the cast "then I can't do my foot thing." the tears started falling again "I might not be able to do my foot thing ever again. You won't love me if I can't do my foot thing."

"Oh Mark." Jack felt actual sorrow forming. He knew it was all part of some fevered nightmare, but that didn't make it any less real to Mark. He legitimately thought that Jack would kick him out over something like that. Fighting back the tears in his own eyes, Jack enveloped Marks shivering frame in a gentle hug. Almost immediately, his shoulder became damp, but that didn't mean he would let go. Mark needed some comfort right now.

"It doesn't matter t' me whether you can do your foot thing or not." Mark pulled back and looked at him with watery eyes.

"It doesn't?" he spoke with a broken voice and a hopeful heart "You'll still love me?"

"Of course I will.." Jack pulled him close again, feeling the relief flood through Marks broken body. The fever was still present, but relinquishing its hold. Jack could feel as Mark grew weaker; his sweaty and tight limbs slowly dropping from their grip against his back. It took only a few moments for Mark to fall asleep again, safe in the arms of someone he trusted, someone who cared.

Pulling back, he carefully rested Marks body back against the chair. As quietly as he could manage, Jack tucked a pillow behind his head, and draped the blankets from the sofa bed over his body, careful to avoid leaning too hard against his knee. Once he was satisfied, he lay his own body down on the now bare sofa bed and rested his head on one of the sofa cushions he had moved earlier to accommodate Mark. It was a bit chilly, and a bit uncomfortable, but Mark needed someone to keep an eye on him and Jack was going to be that someone.

With one last look at Marks now resting frame, Jack let the exhaustion over take him, allowing one last phrase to slip past his lips.

"I'll still love you"


End file.
